PS 1555 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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AAf\ION VP:jpUDLEY 



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Published by 
THOMAS S. GRAY, 

104 Wisconsin Street, 
MILWAUKEE, WIS. 



TO 



THE BENEDICTION OF WHOSE FRIENDSHIP FALLS LIKE 
DEW UPON MY life; 

WHOSE CHARITY IS IMMORTAL IN SPIRIT 

AS SELF-SACRIFICING IN OBSERVANCE ; 

AND 

WHOSE HEART IS PURE AS HER INTELLIGENCE IS FINE, 



Milwaukee, December, i88S- 



Copyright 1885. 
By Marion V. Dudley, 



Cramkr, Aikens & Cramer. 



UNHEARD HINTS. 



FROM invisible belfries, high-domed in the soul, 
Ring the "beautiful bells" of our hopes; 
And mortals, with vision transcendent, behold 
The hands that are pulling the ropes. 

Silver-stranded the ropes, and so daintily strung 
From our souls to the Soul of the earth. 

That the angels are pale in their watching, lest one 
Ring a dissonance — ^jarred by our mirth. 



Would ye hear the mute music and drink all the sweet 
That floods in on the tide of the New ? 

Be ye still as the stillness that sandals the feet 
Of a blush on the cheek or a star in the dew ! 



(t) 



UNHEARD HINTS. 

There's a Spirit of Triumph afloat on the air; 

The glad ghost of the Old in its flight 
Set the beacons ablaze on the hill -tops afar, 

And the valleys stir warm in the light. 

Then be silent, O Heart ! Let time muffle your throb ^^ 

While you wait for the hush of the chime ; 
If you catch not the cadence, you'll know not the word 

It demands of your life as its rhyme. 




A JUNE MEMORY. 



THAT rare June eve, with crescent moon 
Low hung upon the West; 
Shy gh'nt of stars and stir of leaves 

And chirp from air-swung nest ; 
With bahny odors, dew-distilled, 

Afloat upon the breeze ; 
Soft hum of insects, lapse of waves 
And whispering of trees, — 



Thrills through my life a tender pain 

Like some sweet, broken vow ; 
A jewel, golden to the eye. 

But heavy on the brow. 
The Summer-mother, whose young heart 

Throbbed rapture at its birth. 
With drooping head and trailing wings 

Passed sadly from the earth ; 

(3) 



/ 



A JUNE MEMOR Y. 



And later Summers, fair and sweet, 

With tropic-scented breath, 
Have nestled in the arms of Earth 

And sung themselves to death ; 
But all have lacked the glowing warmth. 

The sensitive perfume, 
That filled the air and thrilled my soul 

One eve in that dead June. 



Q 




MUTE MUSIC. 



SING, hills, from your deepest foundations, 
A song to the answering sea ; 
Pour sky, all your rarest libations 
On shrines of humanity. 

Sweet blood m the veins of the forest, 
Wild throat of the sunset-plumed bird, 

Flood out where the need is the sorest 
The light of your unuttered word : 

Grey rocks on the brow of the mountain, 
Green germ on the face of the stream. 

Hushed voice of the underground fountain, 
Speak out and interpret your dream : 

Speak out all maudible voices, 

Withhold not the music that breaks 

On shores where the silence rejoices 
When Tune its mute melody wakes. 

(5) 



MUTE MUSIC. 

We hark for the infinite sweetness 
Of echoes from beautiful feet 

That bathed in the dews of completeness 
Ere man woke the morning to greet. 

We wait for the marvelous story 
That sleeps in the breast of the air ; 

We long for a ghmpse of the glory- 
That liides in the great Everywhere. 

O Silence ! Great Silence ! Deliver 
The trust thou hast guarded so long ; 

The secret we sigh to discover 

Is keyed to the chords of thy song. 




IN SUNSHINE AND IN STORM. 



n PINNACE rode in harbor 
\ Freighted with Hght and song 
The summer winds caressed her 
The summer day was long ; 

A purple pennon fluttered 

From mast-head tall and proud, 

Her crimson tianner billowed 
Like a fiery, sunset cloud ; 



And one from shore was flinging 
Cheers to the happy skies; 

But one stood stiU in shadow 
With longing in his eyes. 

Like royal bird the Pinnace 

Sailed to the eager sea ; 
The great, black night engulfed her 

And drowned the melody. 

(7) 



IM SUNSHINE AND IN STORM. 

A storm swept down in fury, 

The purple pennon trailed 
And the crimson banner's billows 

Were cut with hurtling hail. 

Now white on shore with terror 

Is he who cheered in light ; 
But he who stood in shadow 

The life-boat pulls with might. 

Down — up through seething surges 
His frail barque's fall and rise, 

While burns through storm and blackness 
The fire in his longing eyes ; 

Nearer and nearer the Pinnace 

Through thunder and through hail ; 

Ah, nerved by deathless purpose 
No strong arm's strength shall fail ! 



Again in sunny harbor, 
The idol of the crowd. 

The Pinnace rides in safety 
With flag and pennon proud 



IN SUNSHINE AND IN STORM. 

Again the music pouring 

Its summer day refrain, 
Speeds her outward to the ocean 

The Princess of the Main. 

And proud on deck her master 

Looks up to sunny skies, 
With the longing changed to triumph 

In his smihng, happy eyes; 

The stately prow turns seaward, 
The white sails fill and form. 

Obedient to the bidding 
Of the hero of the storm. 




1^^^^^^^^^^ 


W^^^^M^!^\ 


mm^^ 



CHOOSE. 



7~V MEAN man there lived — so totally mean 
-^ Y That he never drew generous breath ; 
His vileness he knew, and remorse was so keen 
That he hated himself unto death. 

A good man there was; so perfectU^ good 
That he couldn't do ill if he tried ; 

He talked of his good, so complacent his mood, 
Till the neighborhood faded and died. 






C 



do) 




AFTER-SIGHT. 



T F I had known that the Pa^an 
•^ Which rang from the leafy skies, 
Was writ by the nameless Leader 

Of choirs in Paradise ; 
My hand would not have been cruel, 

My heart would have shamed the wrong 
That filled a nest with despairing 

And hushed an enraptured song. 



If I had known that the pebble 

I crushed in the dust unseen. 
Would one day blaze on the forehead 

Of none but a peerless Queen ; — 
My foot had trodden it lighter, 

Its worth I had Hved to show ; 
Alas ! the pearls that are priceless 

No one but a Queen may know ; 



12 AFTER-SIGHT. 

If I had known that the tear drops 

You hushed with a bitter moan, 
Bore up on their shining pathway 

Your heart to the Great White Throne, 
My love had solaced your anguish, 

My reverence bent the knee ; 
But, ah ! the godliest sorrow 

Only a God can see. 







OUR FIRST STATUE. 



\A ^LD thou a noble statue 
J-^ ^ Sculptor over the sea ! 
Sail in the strong ship westward 
Bringing it home to me ! " 



Lifted in pride to our people 
Stately and strong and still, 

Stands it in mute assertion, — 
" Grace of a woman's will." 



c/ 



n 



,V5 



(■3) 



LABOR AND CAPITAL. 



7~V ND here at home, too, Toil complains 
■^ \_ Of weary hours and meager gains. 
Of scanty raiment, food and fire 

And naught that fill the soul's desire 
For higher nurture ; books and ease, 

To think and roam the farther seas ; 
A weary riddle this to read, — 

No sphynx e'er held a closer creed, — 
Is Gold the king and Labor slave ? 

Or Labor wronged and Gold the knave ? 
Nay, ask it thus : shall Head command 

Or bow itself to rule of Hand ? 
In truth, can neither reign alone 

But both may share and fill a throne. 



(14) 



MODERN MISSIONARY HYMN. 



/^ WHITE wings flying eastward, 
^— ^ O white wings flying west, 
O steam-throats speaking blessings 

Across the ocean's breast ! 
Ye are the mighty agents 

That Hnk our human hands, 
And tell a common heaven, 
To near and distant lands. 



Fair Commerce ! — Groveling Priestess, 

They say who know thee not, — 
Thy rising fame shall brighten 

Till darkness is forgot ; 
Earth ever crowns the victor to whom is honor due 

And hands shall twine the laurel 
Who plait for thee the rue ; 
(15) 



16 MODERN M I SSI ON A R Y HYMN. 

Thy silent voice, firm speaking, 

Swung wide the ponderous doors, 
That hid the sleeping nations 

On Oriental shores ; 
Pacific's " Island Empire" 

Unclosed her almond eyes. 
And met the new effulgence 

With radiant, glad surprise ; 

While tawny-skinned Celestials, 

Behind their moldering wall, 
Shook off" their poppied slumber 

And answered to thy call ; 
Old India, torpid, drunken 

With wine of elder years, 
Revives to sing the music 

Thou'rt sounding in her ears ; 

Sweep on, O stately Priestess ! 

Speed swift from main to main ; 
Not King nor Nation scorneth 

To swell thy splendid train ; 
The poor ones rise to bless thee, 

The lowly and the proud 
Alike shall send before thee 

Their acclamations loud. 



AIODEK N MISSION A K V II YMN. ] 7 

Thou Muse of future Poets ! 

Thou prayer we've prayed so long ! 
Speed on to swift fulfilment 

The vision and the song ; 
Upon the mighty headlands 

Where Prophet's rainbows play, 
Behold, we catch the dawning 

And glory of thy day ! 




INEVITABLE. 



THERE'S no need of your voice or your presence, 
The moon does not bend to the sea, — 
Be thou true and the tides of my being 
Resistless, flow upward to thee ; 

Can an apple escape gravitation ? 

Does earth hft her hand for the fruit ? 
Be self-poised and compel by attraction 

What hides from a vulgar pursuit ; 

The invincible forces are patient, — 

No magnet runs after the steel ; 
Let your will be supreme, and its potence. 

My hfe and my fortunes shall feel : 

For the needle must dip to the pole-star, 

The climate encircle its zone ; 
So the heart, through all times and conditions, 

Must know and will worship its own. 



i 



^ 






(i8) 



ENCHANTED. 



FiRE-FLiEs' Song. 



7~V LL heaven was blent in that morning ; 
-^ \ The shallop repHed to your oar, 
And never an accent of warning 
P'rom wave-lip or lip of the shore ; 

The ripples ran swift o'er the river, 

The river ran slow to the Fall, 
And birds with full song-throats a-quiver, 

Held silence in Sycamores tall; 

The breath of the spring-time was sweetness, 
And sweet was the hush of our dream ; 

One eddy in circling fleetness 

Waltzed over the face of the stream, 

Entranced, like the morning, we floated 
Still farther and farther from shore, 

The current's mad swiftness unnoted — 
Unnoted the Cataract's roar. 

(19) 



20 ENCHANTED. 

Look ! the waters are raging and seething ; 

Black rocks and white breakers appall ! 
The spray like a cold, ghostly breathing 

Enfolds us and points to the Fall. 

" Turn back to the fair, Summer weather; 
Awake to this horror ! " I cried ; 
Too late : We went over together, — 
Together, awaking, we died. 

And now when the evenings are moonless 
And nature in darkness controls ; 

When the wind-harp is idle and toneless 
We fly forth in search of our souls : 

Our souls that were lost on that morning, 
When heaven leaned earthward so near, 

That we heard not the Cataract's warning, 
And saw not its omens of fear. 




A GIFT 



T OPENED my door in the Autumn's soft splendor, 
^ And noontide rushed inward, cahn, regal and ten- 
der ; 
A harp from the bridal, from tumult and tears. 
Stole music from silence to ravish my ears ; 

Interwoven of perfumes and exquisite dyes 

From Araby's bowers and Italy's skies; 
It came like a hope and I fervently bless 

Dear hands that thus proffered their blooming caress : 

If kindness could kill one, 'twere bliss thus to die 
And burdened with blessings go home to the sky ; 

No time can defraud me ; when rich hues grow pale 
The heart of the giver I'll hide 'neath their veil. 




(21) 






-UK ir—ii ir 



t i I I I I « i I I 1 4I 



MY DEFEAT. 



SAY why of all lovers I loved you the best?" 
You left me no room for a choice ; 
You tortured my soul to a stormy unrest 
In the eddying waves of your voice ; 



You lured me with silence, then lulled me to sleep 
In the dangerous dark of your eyes; 

I woke from my dreaming to wearily weep 
In the pain of my bitter surprise ; 



Proud pride of my girlhood, low laid at your feet ! 

Haughty heart that had caroled so long, 
Its sovereign freedom, its scorn of defeat, — 

x\h, the dirge of its hope was the doom of its song ! 
(22) 



MY DEFEAT. 23 

And your face was as white as the light of the moon 
On the pale-browed rocks by the sea ; 

You spoke and I knew that the chains of your love 
Must forever be freedom to me. 



My master had spoken ; he called for his own, 
And I could not and would not be brave ; 

I gave him my kingdom, surrendered my throne 
x^nd I sceptered and crowned him — my slave. 

1872. 




A FLOATING REVERIE. 



1 \REAMILY surges my pigmy boat, 
^ — ^ Dreamily plashes the oar; 
Copses of willow and braes of fern 
Dream on the beckoning shore : 

Mountains of cumulus, Orient priests, 
Kneel in their stolae of white : 

Meadows of sky-dust slope blue repose 
Down to the prayer-time of light; 

Reaches of stubble-hill golden up — 
Up through the shimmering air ; 

Touched by the frolicking billows here. 
Touching the deep ocean there. 

Listless I float in the August noon. 
Hearing the summer grow still ; 

Vanishing footfalls of toil in the vale ! 
Vanishing mirth on the hill ! 

i24) 



A FLOATING REl'EKIE. 25 

Grasshopper, whirl with your gold-hned wings 

Over the acres bereft ; 
Patriarch thou of the gleaning fields, 

Welcome to all that is left ; 

Cricket, your dolorous monotone, 

Pitiless, ceaseless and chill. 
Plays on the nerves as a soulless bow. 

Plays in a hand without skill ; 

Golden-rod tossing your gay, sweet plumes 

Off from the sunniest shore, 
Happy your thought but your lavish joy, 

Burdens me, burdens me sore. 

Gladness has shadows that fall somewhere, 
Somewhere the day-time matures ; 

Somebody's sunshine is somebody's shade ; 
Slowly I drift into yours. 

Tardily rung are your bloom-bells sweet, 

Hinting the sadness anear — 
Hard is the waiting for grief to come, 

Harder than grief that is here : 

Waiting for death that a birth may be ; 

Waiting for darkness at morn ; 
Waiting for Autumn while Summer lives — 

Must it be, can it be borne ? 



26 A FLOATING REVERIE. 

Patience, O heart ! catch the Summer's breath, 

Drink in her vanishing sweet ; 
Cahii thou wilt gain for thy stormy unrest. 

Victory out of defeat. 

Dying is only a change of life, 
Death must live or life will die ; 

Sorrow but gladness with visor closed, 
Darkness but fault of the eye. 

What is the witchery, perfect day. 

Over the wood and hill ? 
What is thy sorcery fair Lake Side 

Subtle and sacred and still ? 

Shoreward I turn with reluctant oar, 

Saddened, but sad with joy ; 
Joy for the beauty that brought me tears, 

Tears devoid of annoy. 

Lake Side, August, 1873. 




C 



JESSE'S BIRTHDAY. 



THE snow-flakes tap soft at my window, 
And tell, in their queer little way, 
That Jesse, my little boy-neighbor, 
Is another year older to-day. 

Eight years," said one gossiping fellow, 
" Have rolled over Jesse's bright head." 
'And how do you know?" asked another, 
Who looked like a small feather-bed ; 

I've known," said the first, " since last summer 
When I was a dew-drop, one morn 

The little boy gathered the rose-bud 
Where I glistened, just under the thorn, 

I heard what he said to a playmate : 
' Next March, if I hve, I'll be eight ;' 
Then he shook the bud hard and I tumbled 
Down under his feet by the gate. 

(27) 



28 yESSE'S BFR THDA V. 

" But the suti, he let down a gold ladder, 
And I climbed on it up to the sky, 
And froze myself into a snow-flake, 
To wait till the summer went by. 

" For I thought when old March blew his trumpet 
I'd sail on its blast to the earth, 
And see if the httle boy's birthday 
Was properly brightened with mirth." 

Then the two little chattering snow-flakes 

Joined hands and whirled round in great glee. 

Till, dizzy, they leaned 'gainst the window 
And flattened their noses at me. 




C 






LILIES. 



FIVE beautiful lilies, — two in the charm 
Of perfected and glorious bloom, 
And three in the exquisite mystery 
Of a budded, immaculate gloom, — 

Have come to me, fragrant with kindly regard, 
Through a hand that was daintily small. 

With pink in its tips and a prayer in its pose ;- 
Fitting vase for the lily stem tall ! 

I marked its uplifting, — the curve of the arm 
Was the curve of a sculptor's delight; — 

The dimple of joint and the fingers' light clasp 
On the fragrance embodied in white. 

tropical lily buds ! Exquisite dust, 
So peerlessly blooming for me, 

1 banish my sadness and bury my care 
And I bloom again — bloom unto thee ! 



(29) 



SPIRITUAL TELEGRAPHY. 



T T was years since we met and the waves of the sea 
-^ Swept over me salty and cold ; 
I needed you much and your warm sympathy, 
But the need was a secret untold. 

Not a letter was written, no message was sent 

Over wires that mortals may see, 
But the hours of my silence in longing were spent 

For a word or a token from thee ; 

At the noontide, in solitude deeper than night, 

In dull pain and in sorrow I lay. 
When the door-bell rang quick and your voice brought 
a Hght 

And a warmth to encircle my day. 

Though I saw you not, heard not a word that you spoke, 
Now the rain and the hail-stones may fall ; 

For my midnight passed by and the fair morning broke 
When you heard me and came at my call. 

(30) 



SPIRITUAL TELEGKAPHY. 31 

The invisible fibres attuned by the stars 

Of our destiny, thrilled at my word ; 
You may come, you may go, but no change ever mars 

The high symphonies chiming unheard. 

Far above all the intricate lines of the earth, 

And far lower than sea-cables sing, 
Stretch those mystical threads to the home of their birth 

Where the soul's deepest sympathies cling. 




WED OR DEAD? 



fOU may talk of the bridal marches 
And say that you saw him wed, 
But I heard through the chancel's arches 
A dirge for the early dead ; 

You may tell of a gay reception ; 

Of "blushes," of " bride and groom," 
But I saw through the rich deception 

A pall and the hearse and the tomb ; 

You tell me that Reuben has married 
A fortune, position and birth ; 

I tell you that Reuben has buried 
Himself beneath dust of the earth ; 

I could hear above all intoning 
Of Priest and the organ's refrain, 

The cold clods on his coffin-lid faUing, — 
Position and fortune and gain : 

(32) 



WED OR DEAD? 33 

"But he smiled," do you say, in greeting, 

" And lifted his head in pride?" 
It is true that his heart is beating ; 

His soul — 'twas his soul that died ; 

As the hectic of life burns reddest, 
On cheeks while their death-bells toll, 

So the man is by far the deadest 
Whose body outlives his soul ; 

But, you urge, he was "lawfully wedded;" 
He might have been " lawfully" hung: 

The law is a thing to be dreaded 
When the headsman's axe is swung ; 

But the heart, you may starve or stone it. 

And if it be " lawfully" dead, 
Not a soul that will pause to bemoan it, — 

A heart does not weigh with a head. 

There is law, that unwritten, unspoken. 

Holds man to its iron creed. 
And its sentence is death if once broken 

In thought, or in word, or in deed ; 

And this mystical law of the spirit 

It was that our Reuben denied. 
When he stood where high heaven could hear it 

Before that great altar and lied. 



o4 PVED OR DEAD.-' 

When he promised to love and to cherish 

That girl in the satin and sheen, 
'Twas the dirge of a manliness perished 

That rang from the choir unseen. 

For there walks in the triumph of sorrow, 
A woman whose smile can unfold, 

More heaven than Reuben will borrow 
From millions of pride-wedded gold. 

Though he tread where the proudest have risen, 
The glance of his eye is in chains ; 

The smile on his lip is in prison. 

His heart-beat, a captive, complains. 

! the sadness of dying is never 

When honor and truth have gone home, 
But the madness of living to sever 
One's soul from its heritage throne. 

To see one's own funeral passing ; 

To hear one's own requiem toll ; 
Ah, Reuben was chief of the mourners 

That day when we buried his soul ! 

So you talk of the bridal marches 
And say that you saw him wed ; 

1 hear through the heart's high arches 

A dirge for the early dead. 



TRUE ALCHEMY. 



WE talked of the opera ; talked of the rain, 
Of the German we danced at the ball; 
Of Howells and James ; of John Fiske and of Spain ; 
Of many things else and of nothing at all. 

His manner was studied, polite, commonplace, 

The " man of the world " all the time , 
Until a soft rustle preceded your grace 

And then all the talk was in rhyme. 

Not the rhyming of words ; but the fountain of prose 

Dried up like the last Summer's dew ; 
My courtier who chatted in tamest repose 

Alert, rhymed his spirit to you ; 

An homage unstudied he laid at your feet ; 

From out his deep caverns of lore 
He called forth the Muses, and Hymettus sweet 

He daringly robbed of its store. 

(35) 



36 7^ RUE ALCHEMY. 

The daisies of long ago bloomed in their place, 
The buds on March twigs burst to view ; 

The birds of his childhood sang smiles to your face, — 
My cavalier stoic was Poet for you. 

Pan piped all his reeds on the marshiest shore 

And Juno had bluest of eyes. 
Like tints of the robin's eggs, hunted of yore 

When you had not come from the skies ; 

And then 'twas NovaHs whose mystical sight 

Enkindled your cheek and new-Hghted your eye, 

And dear Edwin Arnold, with Kantaka white 
And spices and roses and Indian dye. 

Now tell me, dear friend, with a smile like the sun, 

Aiid garments enfolding repose, 
How charmed you this rhapsody forth from the one 

Who, to me, talked the dullest of prose ? 

Your face is not fairer; your robe not so rare ; 

Your hand is not jeweled like mine ; 
What is the sweet Alchemy, pray you declare. 

Gives dullness to me and to you the divine ? 




INCENSE. 



Peaceful and blue bends the dome of the skies, 
Green are these curtains of leaves; 
Soft from your censer the filmy clouds rise 
Up to the Orient eaves ; 

Mystic and sweet are the odors they breathe, 

Bathing my spirit in balm ; 
Tremulous mist from the dim, shoreless seas, 

Sleeps in the zone of your calm. 

Lulled by its perfume and lost in its cloud, 

Vainly I grope through your voice ; 
Labyrinths deeper its cadences shroud, — 

Give me your hand, to rejoice. 

August 1st. 




(37) 






AFTER THE CONCERT. 



THE music still throbbed in the arches, 
And thrilled in the hearts of the throng; 
Like echoes from old battle marches 
Or dreams in the drift of a song; 

The night was as dark as a sorrow 
That knows never respite or cheer; 

The rain bode a sunless to-morrow 
And everything outward was drear : 

Still music withm us kept sobbing, 

A quivering pleasure and pain ; 
The notes of the orchestra throbbing 

In time with the wavering rain. 

A light in the door downward flashing, 

Through darkness and rain-drops and mist, 

Lent glory to gloom, and the clashing 
Great throng was too gay to resist 
(38) 



AFTER THE CONCERT. 39 

Its charm ; all the faces grew sweeter 

And fairer; and richer the tones 
Of voices ; and brighter, completer 

The glances that nobody owns. 

Aladdui's good lamp in the story 

Wrought never a wonder so rare, 
For rain-drops transfigured with glory, 

Hung poised in the shimmering air. 

Like notes of the music that trembles 

On bars that the angels prolong, 
When rapture with mortals assembles, 

And hearts beat the tmie of the song. 

Brave light in a vanishing portal ; 

Gay throng on the rim of a dream ; 
Your beauty is music immortal 

That sings through my sadness unseen. 

June 19th, 1885. 




MIDSUMMER NIGHT. 



THOUGH the tropical day has vanished, 
The flash of her glowing eyes, 
In a twilight rich and tender 

Still flames on the western skies ; 
Through the hushed air's humid languor 

The full moon shines remote, 
And the insects' myriad murmur. 
Has silenced the birdling's throat : 

Do you see how the white, curled vapors 

Float up from the meadows sweet ? 
Do you hear the viewless river 

Sing softly and incomplete ? 
Do you feel a word unspoken 

In the droop of pendant leaves, 
Like the mystic thrill of sympathy 

Which a fuU-souled hand receives ? 
(40) 



i 



MIDSUMMER NIGHT. 41 

Do you catch from pulsing breezes 

A tremulous, faint perfume, 
Of the languid liHes sleeping 

On the throbbing heart of June ? 
Does the odor link the present 

To some June of other years, 
When the snowy lilies sleeping, 

Knew no dream of care or tears ? 

Does a subtle, fragrant sadness 

Lapse around you, — not your own, — 
Circling waves from deeper ocean. 

Where some pain has dropped a stone ? 
All things melt this summer evening, 

Rock is fluent ; ice is wme ; 
Mighty nerve-lines, telegraphic. 

Pour your heart-beat into mine ; 

Deep to deep in passion calleth. 

Shallows can no answer give, — 
Tossed by waves and tempest-driven, 

Nothing true in them may live; — 
From your deeps to-night a calling 

Sweeps my heights in pleading tone ; 
Calm to calm the cry returneth 

Height and depth are blent in one. 

Klosterheim, 1878. 



IMMORTAL. 



T N a far-gone, mystic summer, 
^ Lit by sun and lulled by rain, 
When the new moons rose in wonder 
And the old moons died in pain — 

On the clouds a dreaming painter 
Hung a picture of his bride. 

And a Poet sang his rapture 
To the ebbing of the tide ; 



But, alas ! the years have vanished 
In the sunlight and the rain ; 

Still the new moons glow in wonder, 
Still the old moons die in pain. 

(42) 



IMMORTAL. 

For the Painter I have vainly- 
Searched the halls of earthly pride 

But his picture, smiling downward, 
Tells the love for which he died. 

And the Poet ? Never waters, 
Ebb or flood, his fate reveal ; 

But his rapture, flaming upward, 
Is the same that I can feel. 



43 




l^^M^^^M^^f^t^^Mm^^ 


ISI^^^^S^^^^^^M 



THE BURNING BUSH. 



T N the tangled, dim old garden, 

-'- Where the Frost had traced its name, 

I saw one Autumn morning, 

A sumac bush aflame ; 
All its leaves, like burning falchions. 

Leaped up in glowing blaze, 
And, I thought, the old-time marvel 

Is wrought in latter days. 



Not a fibre curled or shriveled, 

No tissue scorched or lost ; 
Yet it flamed like the fiery pillar 

That led old Israel's host; 
And a voice like perfume stealing, 

Spake clear, but made no sound. 
And I knew that it was saying, 

"This ground is holy ground." 

(44 



THE BURNING BUSH. 45 

" There's no backward glancing needed 

To teach thee what to do, 
For the bush which burned for Moses 

Glows bright to-day, for you, 
And the voice that thrilled the prophet 

To deeds before unwrought, 
Is the same that now interprets 

The Everlasting thought." 

' O'er the busy Present's pathway 

Still '■ signs and wonders ' move. 
And the miracles of Nature 

Her laws unchanging prove ; 
Ye have need to walk with reverence 

Bare-browed and feet unshod. 
Lest ye fail to see the glory 

And hear the words of God." 



1870. 




ART'S DESPAIR. 



7~V RTIST in whose flaming eye 
■'■ \ Lofty dreams consume, 
Come from haunts of wood and sky 
Nobler themes illume; 

Leave the mountain lone and steep, 
Paint the heights of fame ; 

Leave the shadow sad and deep, 
Paint a deathless name ; 

Dip thy brush for highest art, 

Paint a human soul, — 
Floods of transport, ebbs of heart, 

Mighty self-control; 

Paint a promise, limn a faith, 
Burning dream of youth ; 

Color Rapture's mortal wraith, 
Painter, paint a truth : 

(46) 



ART'S DESPAIR. 47 

Paint a moment, Artist strong; 

Sketch an hour's decay, 
March of ages, silence long, 

Sorcerer, paint a Day : 

Paint a star-beam, clear and lone, 

Tint the evening breeze; 
Sketch a cadence, or a tone 

From the distant seas. 

Paint a flight, sustained and long, 

Not the puny wing, — 
Not with singer, but with song, 

Make thy canvas sing. 

Paint a trembling, hopeless sigh 

On the summer air. 
Or from colors deep and high. 

Paint a burning prayer; 

O ! this haunting unattained, 

Baffling hand and eye ; 
All is loss with it ungained 

Artist, paint and die ! 






THE IDEALIST. 



THE sweetest lips are oft fore-doomed 
The bitterest cups to drain ; 
The purest brows are those that wear 
The thorny crowns of Pain. 

The fires of martyrdom to-day 

Leap fiercely as of old, 
No fagot lent more wrathful heat 

Than, latent, sleeps in cold. 

I saw a greedy flame consume 
The whiteness of your cheek, 

One moment when you read'a thought 
The thinker dared not speak : 

Her wrong, not yours, suffused your face, 
Her stealthy thought of blame. 

Leaped through the bar ways of her eyes 
And set your soul aflame. 
(48) 



THE IDEALIST. 49 

Unkindness undeserved, you feel 

As creatures feel their death, 
Borne through the blood-taint in the air 

And caught upon their breath ; 

Most agony the bullock knows, 

Not in the last dull strife ; 
But when he learns his Gods were fiends 

Whose kindness sought his life ; 

So you, O child of many griefs, 

The crowd can never share, 
Breathe anguish from a glittering smile, 

And from a glance, despair. 

You burn at stakes invisible 

Along the great highway ; 
Where grosser souls are mirthful, you 

Retire alone to pray. 

Each morn some cherished dream endures 

x\ cross that none may see ; 
Through many a midnight hour you watch 

In lone Gethsemane. 

And yet, I see upon your face 

Warm lines of joy increase ; 
The light beyond the storm shines through 

Interstices of Peace. 



50 THE IDEALIST. 

With sure feet walking on the sea 

Eternal, uncreate; 
Your poise too light to be submerged, 

Too firm to dissipate ; 

You heed not barque or fortress ; 

Engrossed in mystic lore, 
You lift your forehead to the sky, 

And let life's tempest roar ; 

From thorn-wounds on your head outrays 
The faith their pain has bought ; 

Though doubt may dig the body's grave, 
No power can kill a thought. 

And you, a Thought, incarnate here, 

On ministries of Trust, 
Must tread the Sacred Way and scorn 

To run a race with dust. 




INFINITE BECKONING. 



I. 



FROM the drift of a star to the drift of a soul, 
The world is all miracle, under control ; 
The butterfly's wing and man's reverent awe 
Alike wear the chain of inscrutable Law ; — 
A law that allures us, but ever eludes, 
That bafiies our grasping, but never deludes; 
We never can hold it ; it holds us secure, 
And the wisest in reading shall longest endure ; 
A Faith-bow of promise — a promise replete — 
Forever fulfillmg, but never complete ; 
We chase where it beckons, and gather the gold, 
And lo, on before us, new treasures unfold ! 
(51) 



52 INFINITE BECKONING. 

The trutli just discovered, the star new-revealed. 
Are but fore-gleams of mysteries deeper concealed; 
One Palimpsest deciphered, one Rune rendered clear, 
And new vistas of shade mock the eye of the seer. 



II. 



The Rune is a footprint, but whose were the feet 
That stamped their strong impress and vanished so fleet? 
And would they rest sweeter if haply they knew 
That back on our pathway this shadow they threw ? 
And that we, in our groping, between hope and fear, 
Had learned from the shadow that they were once here? 
O Skald of the Norsemen, not lightly ye trod ! 
Your song was of Odin, but Odin sang God; 
And waiving our "plans of salvation," we know 
That you, in your wildness, were reverent too. 
Some roll from the drum-beat that marshals the spheres 
Sent its echo from Nature to ravish your ears ; 
The stars' bright reveille rang down from the blue. 
In that morn of the earth, an awakening to you ; 
The grey mountains o'er- awed through the on-sweep- 
ing air. 
And the sea's surging rhythm engulfed thee in prayer. 



INFINfTE BECKONING. 53 

III. 

It is thus through all ages man's nature has yearned 
Toward the Infinite watch-fires that over him burned; 
Their warmth creeps within him and tells of his night, 
And a knowledge of darkness makes needful the light; 
He kindles no torch if he's learned to be wise, 
Since light meeting light, can but dazzle his eyes ; 
But he gropes in his waiting and aching to know. 
Till the flicker of shadows leads out to the glow. 




I 



INDEX. 



Unheard Hints, 










I 


A June Memory, 








3 


Mute Music, . 








5 


In Sunshine and in Storm, . 








7 


Choose, 








ID 


After- Sight, . 








II 


Our First Statue, 








13 


Labor and Capital, 








H 


-Modern Missionary Ilymn, . 








15 


Inevitable, 








i8 


Enchanted, 








19 


A Gift, 








21 


My Defeat, . 








22 


A Floating Reverie, . 








24 


Jesse's Birthday, 








27 


Lilies, 








29 


Spiritual Telegraphy, 








30 


Wed or Dead ? 








32 


True Alchemy, 










• 35 


Incense, 










37 


After the Concert, 










38 


Midsummer Night, 










40 


Immortal, 










42 


The Burning Bush, 










44 


Art's Despair, 










46 


The Idealist, . 










. 48 


Infinite Beckoning, 










51 



LIBRARY 





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